


Anamnesis

by dumblesbianenergy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And in love in all of them, Angst, Canon Divergence, College AU, F/M, Fluff, Genderswap, Hacker AU, Literally just a bunch of AU’s in one story, Multiple Universes, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pining Lance (Voltron), Pining Pidge | Katie Holt, Slow Burn, They’re in seven different lives, baseball AU, because pie amirite, coffee shop AU, dance au, dumblesbianwrites, hospital au, pidgance, pidge and lance, plance, slow updates at first, they’re soulmates don’t @ me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-05-31 09:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15116744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumblesbianenergy/pseuds/dumblesbianenergy
Summary: anamnesisˌanəmˈniːsɪs/Submitnoun1.recollection, especially of a supposed previous existence.For Pidge, a week is more than just seven days, For her, it’s seven different lives, seven different versions of her. And seven different versions of him.One day, Pidge is studying at university, another she works in a coffee shop. Some days she is a dancer, or a baseball player, or a hacker or a doctor. Every day she is someone new, and every day there is one thing in common: Lance.Pidge is trying to find the right day, the right life, the right Lance, which is difficult when she’s in love with all of them. All of him.





	1. 1; light up sketchers and morning lectures

**Author's Note:**

> here’s chapter 1 of my new plance fic rewritten! i originally posted this in june but i lost motivation and now i’m back and dropping this right before s8. i may edit this after watching the season to make it more compliant, but only if there’s anything major, bc this fic is an au lmao. anyway,, hope you enjoy! - el (@dumblesbianenergy on tumblr)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day one; university

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo i originally posted this in like june, but stopped updating for like 6 months lmao. now i’ve rewritten it and i’m posting again, with a few details added to make it s8 compliant even tho it’s an au, bc i think it’s nicer to read that way. enjoy!! - el (@dumblesbianenergy on tumblr)

Katie wakes up, and it is eight in the morning. It is the first day of the first semester of her second year at Garrison university. 

It is eight in the morning, and she is late for her first lecture. Her first instinct is to text her brother, Matt for a ride, but then she remembers he moved away from the Garrison grounds last year, and she is alone in her cramped apartment. 

Fear fuels Katie, and she is ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Breakfast will have to wait until lunch today, she thinks, as she only has time to grab a coffee from the Starbucks on campus before double checking her schedule and making sure she is heading to the right place. The lecture hall isn’t far, and she rushes through the door with minutes to spare. Her best friend Hunk is waiting for her with a sympathetic smile and a bagel in his hand. She collapses in the seat next to him, exhausted although she’s not sure why she’s so tired. 

By the time she has eaten her bagel, class has started, but the professor is nowhere to be seen. Katie’s other best friend Allura waltzes in, fashionably late as usual, and takes her place on Katie’s other side. She moves her notebook to make room for Allura, drawing the other girl’s attention to it and making her chuckle.

“Green again, Katie?"

"Yes." She says, fingering the emerald moleskin. "Always green, it has to be green."

 

Then the professor walks in, and everything changes.

The first thing Katie notices about him are his shoes. A professor at one of the most prestigious universities in the country and perhaps even the world is wearing light up sketchers. The colours flash blue and green as he bounces (there is no other way to describe the way he walks) into the lecture hall. His suit is bulky and ill fitted on his lanky figure, making his shoulders appear cartoonishly squared, and his blue tie has a stain on it. His brown hair is tousled in a way that wasn’t meant to be attractive, but sort of is, and his ocean eyes are crinkled with laughter from a joke somehow only he is in on.

Most of the students are whispering and laughing, but Katie is silent. She can't recognise the emotion she's experiencing; it's like she finally found someone she didn't even know she was looking for. She thinks this might be what they call a soulmate. 

The professor begins to speak, and Katie has to force herself to concentrate on his words.

"Good morning!" He chirps, far too cheerful for a Monday morning. "I'm Professor Mcclain, and I'll be teaching you Aerospace engineering this year. This course is really awesome, so I hope we're gonna have a blast together!" 

Professor Mcclain speaks like a kids tv show host. Katie finds it adorable. She looks to both her sides and Hunk is watching their professor animatedly, but Allura is looking at her with a knowing smile. She takes one of Katie’s pens - the delicate fancy one with the blue ink - and writes her a note. Sliding it over, Katie reads the blue word with a blue heart. 

‘He’s cute.’ The note says, and Katie is not jealous. She has never met this professor before, and she feels absolutely nothing towards him. 

She realises that her efforts to convince herself might be in vain.

Professor keeps talking, explaining the plans for the semester, but Katie has read the powerpoint already (twice), so she is free to sit in her own thoughts. Thoughts that are definitely not about his hair and his eyes and his crooked smile. It feels like she has seen that smile a thousand times before, like she has dreamt about that smile every night for her whole life.

“Katie? Katie Holt?” Professor Mcclain is calling her name, and she can’t ignore the rush it gives her. She never liked her name much - it was too girly, too simple - but she could learn to love it in his playful voice. 

“Here,” She answers, half raising a hand and ignoring the blush that spreads across her freckled cheeks. 

“Are you Matt Holt’s sister?” He asks and Katie’s heart falls. That is the only question she is ever asked, especially since she chose to follow the same career path as him. She loves her brother, really she does, but she’s a little tired of living in his shadow, knowing she can never outgrow it.

“That’s me.” She confirms in a weak voice, hating every second of it.

His eyebrows raise slightly, his face tilts upwards in a gesture of innate curiosity.

“I took this very same course with your brother a few years ago. He told me great things about you. Looking forward to teaching you, Miss Holt.” 

Professor Mcclain speaks too fast for her to register what he is saying until long after he’s moved on, like she’s on a carousel that stopped moving hours ago but she’s still spinning, round and round and round.

She doesn’t want to face Allura, but she does, and the girl gives her a pointed look. Katie huffs in denial and turns to Hunk for reassurance, but he’s wearing the same all knowing smile and she knows she is alone here.

Not entirely alone, though. Professor Mcclain doesn’t speak to her for the rest of the class, doesn’t even glance in her direction, and yet she feels a longing between the two of them, and magnetic attraction between polar opposites. The only attempt at communication he makes is at the end of the class, when he sends her a grin and a wink that is so public it is private, a grin and a wink that could only have been directed at her, a grin and a wink that latches on to her and pulls her towards him, as if she has fallen hook, line and sinker. She feels his pull for the rest of the day, as she hurries out of the classroom, blushing, as soon as the clock turns to eleven, as she walks in a daydream to her next class, and gets told off by her professor multiple times for spacing out. 

Katie can’t stop thinking about him, about his messy hair and light up sketchers and the fact that he sees her as her own person, instead of her brother’s sidekick, with her own thoughts and dreams and fears and- as much as she hates to admit it- newly found crushes on college professors.

Most of all, she can’t help but ponder the strange feeling of nostalgia around him, the bittersweet tugging on her heart that is reminiscent of lovers long lost, finally being reunited.

Katie returns to her cramped apartment that evening, throwing herself down onto the sagging couch. She texts Matt while she opens her mail and wonders how she’s going to pay rent this month (She really needs a roommate).

‘Hey KitKat.’ Matt replies to her message a few minutes later. ‘I hope you’re managing without me looking after you.’ She rolls her eyes, and keeps reading. ‘Anything interesting happen your first day back?’

She tells him, no, that everything was normal and boring - but she’s lying. She just doesn’t know how to tell her brother that she’s fallen for her professor that used to be in his class when he was in college. 

She begins doodling in her green notebook instead of starting her homework, knowing Professor Iverson will be unimpressed, but for once not really caring. She draws swirls of blue and green across her page, like the flashing of Professor Mcclain’s light up sketchers, over and over like they were made to chase each other forever.


	2. 2; a crash course in coding for dummies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is up! sorry it took so long, i’m bulk writing in order to have chapters ready for when i go back to school. hope u enjoy! 
> 
> \- dumblesbianenergy on tumblr

Rover wakes up, and it is three in the afternoon. They have spent all night and all morning working, and the little sleep they are running on is hardly sustainable, let alone healthy.

But it’s okay, because it is three in the afternoon and they have finally finished the case they’ve been struggling with for weeks. The Castle of Lions has one of the most secure databases they’ve ever seen, and now they understand why it is called the most secure bank in the world. Of course, that’s not true. It’s not actually the most secure bank in the world, because Rover has managed to hack into it and get the details of over one hundred thousand customers. Their boss will be extremely proud of them.

Rover decides that they’ll order pizza as a reward. However, it isn’t much of a reward when they order pizza nearly every night. Their dark, windowless apartment is littered with cardboard boxes and takeout containers. They could leave the house more than once a month to empty the trash, but they don’t want to risk being seen any more than necessary by prying neighbours. Anyway, Rover doesn’t mind.They have become used to the primitive living conditions that are required for their job (sometimes they wonder if the squalor and loneliness is all that necessary).

They roll out of bed, stretching their spine that aches after endless hours of hunching over their computer trying to get through over fifty firewalls to reach the access codes to break in: access codes that they can now send to their boss, feeling each bone pop and crack satisfyingly, with an unusual but not unpleasant feel of freedom.

They press the button on their lime green, puppy sticker adorned keyboard to open up the program that they built to allow the others in their service to communicate with 100% anonymity and confidentiality. When there are doubts about legality (and morality) in their career, a careful eye is needed, and no one is more careful than Rover. With a content smile, they open up an email with the access codes, and the details of the one hundred richest customers attached to it.

To: kuronthechampion@voltron.com  
From: kitkatisageniu5@voltron.com  
Subject: Castle of Lions assignment 

Hey. It’s done. See attached.

\- R 

They hit send with a feeling of accomplishment, then move all the pages from the assignment to the ‘completed’ section of their files, thousands and thousands of illegal documents that they had set up to automatically delete at less than a seconds notice. Like they said; careful.

They head to their tiny kitchenette to make themselves coffee, but they’re all out of milk. Sighing, they add it to their ever growing grocery list as they pour themselves a glass of slightly out of date but still edible orange juice. Even online shopping poses a threat, and so Rover must wait until their boss gives them the go ahead to buy any groceries. They hope it’s soon.

By the time they use the bathroom and return to their desk, their boss has replied.

To: kitkatisageniu5@voltron.com  
From: kuronthechampion@voltron.com  
Subject: Castle of Lions assignment 

Well done. Your next one is waiting in your inbox. You’ll be working with a partner for this - he’s new to the team.  
Good luck.

Their boss is the kind of person that didn’t need to sign their name off, because you already know exactly who they were. Rover wonders what kind of person their new partner is going to be, and what sort of case requires teamwork in a career based off independence and solitude. They order their pizza before checking their inbox, wanting to savour their achievement. They don’t bother using their own bank details, although they can more than afford it - the Castle of Lions case raised Voltron over a million dollars - no instead, they choose a customer’s card at random, and use that to order a sixteen inch pepperoni pizza with sweetcorn, jalapeños and a stuffed cheese crust.

When asked for their name, Rover thinks for a moment before gleefully entering ‘Peter Parker’. That is their true reward. Being a comic book fanatic, they always use super heroes to order, and they’ve been saving their favourite, Spiderman, for a special occasion. 

They’re slowly running out of superhero names, though they’d never admit it.

When Rover hears the pizza guy exit the lift, they wait four minutes for the man to leave the pizza there and depart. They don’t have to worry about him snitching; more than a few of the fast food chains around owe Voltron a favour, and silence is one of them. The waiting is nothing more than an old habit. Most of what Rover does is old habit these days.

As they open the box and felt the rush of hot air steam their glasses, they hear their computer chime. An email. Rover doesn’t exactly have any friends, so it must be their new partner. They grab a slice of pizza and quickly skim over the case briefing with greasy fingers.

It is a personal case, requested by the heiress to a fancy company Rover has never heard of. A quick google search and they find out that Altea Tech is one of the leading groups in aerospace engineering, but is in a bitter competition with another company, Galra Engineering. Rover returns to the email and finds that the heiress, named Allura, wants the Voltron team to pretend to be an employee at Galra to take them down from the inside. It’s evil super villain levels of complicated, but Allura sounds desperate in her request, terrified of her father losing everything he’s worked for, and Rover can’t help but feel a tiny bit sorry for her. They click to accept the case (not that the decline button does anything except bring up a stupid video of a guy with ginger hair singing a song from the eighties about not giving you up) and open up the email they received.

To: kitkatisageniu5@voltron  
From: sharpshootingtailor@voltron  
Subject: greetings and salutations 

yo yo!! ^_^ i’m the tailor, your partner for this case and newest member of voltron!! this assignment is gonna be SO much fun, looking forward to working with you on this!! 

what’s your speciality??? mine is communications; you know, talking with people and stuff. it’s super fun!!!!! 10/10 recommend uwu 

reply to me asap!! can’t wait to start working on this with you :, ) 

yours excitedly, 

the tailor 

Rover isn’t sure how to react to the level of unprofessionalism they are seeing in front of them. They are half tempted to message their boss saying ‘funny joke, now where’s the real partner for the case?’. 

Because there’s no way this is it. He can’t be it. 

They read and reread the message, lookings for... something. Any sort of clue that this wasn’t written by an infant. 

Why are there so many exclamation marks? Who could be so excited in an email? And who types in blue font?The lack of capital letters is borderline horrendous, and they don’t even want to get started on the stupid faces. 

Then Rover reads the subject, and everything changes. 

‘Greetings and salutations’, it read, which didn’t mean much to anyone. Except Rover.

Gr33tings and S4luti0ns was the name of the first virus Rover ever coded, a whole five or six years ago. It was basic and mistake ridden looking back on it, but Rover had been so proud of it at the time. They had published it to the coding community, and received many compliments, to their surprise. That was the first of many viruses that made Rover the well known and respected hacker they are today. Rover wouldn’t even be anything close to a coding genius without Gr33tings and S4lutati0ns.

If the Tailor is referring to their virus - and he must be, right? - then they have at least one thing in common. Maybe all hope isn’t lost, after all.

Rover spends a long time penning their reply to him, and for the first time in their career they feel, nervous? excited? they can’t pin down the emotion, but they don’t dislike it.

To: sharpshootingtailor@voltron  
From: kitkatisageniu5@voltron  
Subject: Greetings and Salutations 

The Tailor, 

I’m impressed at your coding knowledge - that’s my specialty. 

Welcome to Voltron. As you will probably get to know, everyone is at least somewhat agreeable. Texas can be temperamental, but the Balmera is helpful and a good conversationalist. Kuron is an excellent leader. I hope you enjoy your time working here.

This case appears to be very interesting. I’m glad to have someone of your caliber as my partner.

 

Rover is about to sign their email as ‘R’, like they always do, but they can’t bring themself to it. Something is changing inside them, as if the tailor has planted a tiny seed of empathy in the long abandoned cave of their heart. They aren’t sure how to feel about it. They have been alone for so long they have forgotten how to interact with anything other than a computer screen

They sign the email; ‘Yours tentatively, Rover.’ and send it, taking another slice of now cold pizza and chewing it thoughtfully. Little do they know, but the seed in their chest has begun to grow, nurtured by a familiarity that extends far beyond their reality.


	3. 3; take a swing, i’ve got a thing (for you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another day, another reality. i took a bit of a hiatus from social media but i’m back and feeling great so expect more frequent updates! enjoy this chapter, it was so much fun to write uwu 
> 
> ~ el, aka dumblesbianenergy on tumblr

Holt wakes up, and it is six in the morning. She is being shaken awake by one of her teammates, Garrett, who, as usual, doesn’t realise how strong he is.

“Ow! Dude, let go, I’m awake.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He cries anxiously, dropping her shoulders abruptly and stepping away from her bed. She waves off his apology and begrudgingly sits up, peering at him through her bird’s nest of hair.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Garrett’s face breaks into a grin. 

“Our new striker is joining today! Shirogane says he’s the best he’s seen - even better than Matt.”

At this, Holt narrows her eyes. Her older brother is the best striker she has ever seen, and is currently at an ivy league college on a scholarship for baseball. She struggles to believe that anyone could come close to his talent. 

“Hm.” She replies curtly. “He may be good, but he can’t replace Matt.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Shiro knows what’s best for the team.”

Shiro, their coach, had also been a star hitter, set to play for a major league like Matt, until he was involved in a car accident and lost his right arm. Unable to pursue his dream of playing professionally, he decided to pass on his knowledge to kids like Holt and Garrett by starting a high school team. If Shiro trusts this mysterious new player, she supposes she will, too.

“Alright,” She says finally, and runs a hand through her hair with a stifled yawn. “But I’ll have to see him for myself before we all become best buddies.”

Garrett rolls his eyes at her and leaves her box shaped room to allow her to change. She throws on her baseball shirt, a pair of Matt’s old shorts, trainers, drags a brush through her hair and slides her glasses onto her freckled nose.

Matt is waiting for her with Garrett when she leaves her room and enters the kitchen. He’s flown home just to see her play this season, and in true Holt family style, he’s cooked up a buffet for breakfast (with Garrett’s help, of course). Holt takes a seat at the table and digs in.

“I heard you’re getting a new striker.” Matt begins, and Holt sighs. Of course Garrett has told everyone in sight about their new member.

“Yeah, and? We’ve had loads of new strikers before, and they all ended up leaving after like, a week.” She points out, biting into a slice of richly buttered toast menacingly.

Matt frowns.

“Only because you keep driving them away. What did you do to that girl, Plaxum? Hunk, what did she do to Plaxum?”

Garrett licks syrup off his finger from his waffles and glances at Holt.

“She put itching powder in her uniform.” He sighs with a look of disapproval. Holt scoffs.

“It was just a joke,” She argues, but Matt simply glares at her until she is forced to drop her gaze to her plate.

“Promise me you’ll give the new kid a try.” He says sternly, and Holt groans loudly through a mouthful of toast.

“If I say yes, will you stop bothering me about it?” 

Matt follows Garrett’s example and sighs loudly.

“Sure, whatever. But you have to play nice, okay? Shiro says this guy is good, and I believe him. It’s Shiro - you should too.”

As usual, Shiro is right. 

Holt isn’t sure why she is suprised any more. Of course the new player, ‘Mcclain’, his shirt names him, is irritatingly amazing. His swing is flawless, and he’s a great runner too. That isn’t what throws Holt off, however. 

No, what messes with her head is that Mcclain is hot. Stunningly, breath takingly hot. He might be the most attractive person she’s ever seen in her sixteen years of life. And he knows it. Every time he catches Holt staring during their morning practice - which is a lot more times than she’d admit - he shoots her a dazzling smile and a flirtatious wink. He is the definition of a lover boy, the kind of guy Holt wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole, but Mcclain is different.

It’s in the way he furrows his brow as he steps up to bat. It’s the way he looks at the ball like it’s both his best friend and worst enemy. It’s the way he doesn’t laugh when Holt trips over her laces (a lovely prank from no other than Kogane - she’ll have to pay him back for that) but instead he holds out a hand to help her up. He has pretty hands. Holt doesn’t have a thing for hands, but she might have a thing for his hands.

She isn’t sure how to feel. Crushes aren’t something she’s used to, as she spends all of her time with her team, the same people she’s known for years. Baseball is her life, and that means everything else comes second - including romance. 

Mcclain, however, seems to have found a loophole and wiggled his way into her heart.

Holt can hardly focus all morning. Shiro has to yell at her multiple times, but she understands why. She can’t be distracted - it throws the whole team out of balance. If she isn’t catching properly, Kogane can’t pitch right, and in turn that affects their fielders, Garrett, Allura, Rolo and Nyma.

Mcclain, who is a pretty decent shortstop as well as a hitter, is the only one immune to her mistakes, probably because he is the one causing them. 

As much as Holt tries to ignore him for the remainder of the practice, thoughts of him keep appearing in her mind. She can’t quite figure out why. When she bids her teammates farewell for the day (she determinedly avoids even making eye contact with Mcclain) and heads home to play video games with Matt all evening, she realises that maybe she doesn’t have to forget about him.

Maybe, just maybe, she thinks, as Matt thrashes her at Killbot (not because she’s distracted by Mcclain - because she hasn’t played in while, of course) they could be friends, and in a thousand other lives, they could be so much more.


	4. 4; cha cha slide into my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i’m not the happiest with this chapter, but i wanted to put it up anyway. the nicknames will be explained later so hang in there and enjoy!
> 
> \- el <3

It is six in the morning and Pigeon, as usual, is already awake. In fact, she is dressed and ready to leave for practice as soon as her older brother, Matt, can be bothered to get up and drive her. 

To pass the time, she stretches. Up in the air, hands stretched towards the sky, dainty fingers reaching for the stars she’d stuck to the ceiling of her large bedroom. Then down, bent almost double with her hands reaching her ballet shoe clad toes easily, her head peering at its reflection in the mirror through her legs.

Pigeon is more than a little flexible; she has to be, naturally, for what she does. Matt always jokes that she would be better off as a gymnast, to which she always pulls a face. Pigeon wouldn’t be able to stand being a gymnast. She was born to dance. When she was little, she was spinning and twirling before she could even walk properly. Her whole life, she has danced - hip hop, tap, salsa, musical theatre, contemporary - you name it, Pigeon can do it. Her favourite style, however, is ballet. Despite the rigid rules and formations, it’s the most freeing activity she knows of, and she loves it more than anything.

But now, her whole future career as a dancer hangs by a thread. To get a scholarship at the Garrison School of Dance, Pigeon has to complete rigorous auditions, workshops and applications until every part of her body aches. The final step to reaching the school is a competition - the Annual Garrison Dance Tournament - affectionately nicknamed the Hunger Games by viewers and participants alike. People fly in from all over the world to join the one thousand starting competitors, dancing through intense heats until only fifty remain. Only ten of those finalists will be given scholarships to the Garrison, the rest turned away until next year. 

Pigeon, by some miracle, is one of those fifty finalists. And she has to get in. Not because of the scholarship itself - her parents both teach at the Garrison, so her getting in is a no brainier - but because of what it means. Getting into the Garrison through the tournament would make her a legend, would secure her legacy as one of the greatest dancers in the world. 

Matt interrupts her thoughts by bounding into her room and lifting her into the air easily, spinning her around as if she weighs nothing at all (which isn’t entirely false. At fifteen, Pigeon has yet to break five foot, and has the appearance of a twig).

“There’s my little ballerina!”

She scowls from the air, wriggles and kicks until he puts her down.

“It’s about time. We’re already late, let’s go.” She complains, wobbling for a moment as she adjusts her stance. Matt just chuckles and ruffles her hair in that annoying big brother way of his.

“You’re always so uptight, Pidgey-Pie. Take a chill pill, we’ll make it on time, okay?” 

His attempt to assure her would have worked on anyone but Pigeon. She’s far too smart, logical and anxious to fall for his meaningless words. 

“We’ll only make it on time if you drive fast enough, and if we leave now.” She stresses, gym bag already slung over her shoulder as she pulls him towards her bedroom door.

Matt rolls his eyes but allows her to drag him down the stairs and into his car, knowing that doing otherwise will only upset her further. As soon as they are buckled in and cruising along the quiet suburban roads, Pigeon finally feels at ease. She can’t explain why she is so on edge lately; anyone that knows her would chalk it down to the Hunger Games being right around the corner, but she knows that it’s more than this.

There is a buzz of electricity in the air, a charged atmosphere that makes her hair stand on edge. Something is coming, she decides, and is sure of it. Something big is coming, and it’s going to change everything.

She finds out the something when she arrives at the Castle of Lions, her dance studio and second home. She is out of the car like a bullet, waving goodbye to Matt over her shoulder. 

Dance doesn’t start until eight, but she comes at seven anyway, because her teacher Allura is always here early and she wants all the extra practice time she can get. 

Allura is sitting at the reception desk as Pigeon comes in, struggling to push the heavy front door open.

“Morning, Miss Allura!” She chirps with a slight smile and a wave with the hand that isn’t holding her dance bag.

At her name being called, the young dance teacher looks up and blinks. Her curly white hair looks more frazzled than usual, and her kaleidoscope blue eyes have bags clinging to them. Clearly, Pigeon isn’t the only one that the Hunger Games are taking a toll on.

“Oh. Morning, Katie.” She nods, glancing back down at what must be paperwork. 

“Why don’t you head on through? There’s a new kid here - his name’s Lance. I figured you could mentor him until he settles in?” Allura phrases her request as a question, but Pigeon knows she doesn’t have a choice. She just hopes this Lance guy doesn’t bother her too much. And that it isn’t ‘him’. Lance is a common enough name; she’s sure it’s someone else. She’s sure of it. It won’t be him. It can’t be.

She passes through the changing room and sheds her jacket, already dressed in shorts and a green tank top, and of course, her ballet shoes. They’re uncomfortable to wear all the time, but Pigeon can’t help it. She just loves them so much. They make her feel like a fairy, floating on air.

 

Grabbing her water bottle, phone and charger, she enters the studio space and stops. 

There is a boy dancing like he’s never had a lesson before. His technique is non existent and his rhythm makes it seem he’s not even listening to the upbeat track playing in the background. She recognises his style, the way he pauses every fifth beat, and the way his lean shoulders roll when he moves his long arms. She wishes she didn’t, but she knows exactly who the boy is.

She is about to go back to Allura and beg someone else to be his mentor, when the boy turns around. 

Their eyes widen in unison.

She blinks. He lets out a choked laugh.

“Pigeon?”

“Lancelot?”


	5. 5; is your heart monitor broken, or are you just happy to see me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> el post chapters regularly challenge failed lmao
> 
> thanks for sticking around anyway, this is definitely a fic for the long run (clearly) 
> 
> here’s a new chapter with another one coming either tomorrow or the day after! - el <3

Dr Katie Holt wakes up, and it is nine o’clock at night. Her pager is beeping her away from sleep, reminding her that she has a job to do. She doesn’t sleep enough; she can’t name a doctor who does. The best she can do are these tiny naps during shifts, minuscule pockets of rest amongst all the madness. 

She checks her pager and it’s the arrival of her newest patient. She has already been briefed on them; a young man who has lost a leg while fighting the Galra forces abroad. She is used to seeing these sorts of cases - the Garrison is a military hospital, so amputees are common - but it still makes her a little sad. She is always a little sad these days. 

Dr Holt rolls out of the cot she was sleeping on and stretches, her bones groaning loudly in protest. The cots are hard and uncomfortable, but when you haven’t slept in 30 hours, you take what you can get.

She finds Nurse Garrett (or rather, he finds her) as she makes her way to reception to find out where her patient has been taken, and she greets her friend with a tired grin and a one armed hug. He’s the Garrison’s most beloved nurse, and her best friend, the friendliest guy she knows. And since it’s a well known fact Dr Holt can be less than amicable when she’s stressed - which is nearly always - they balance out each other nicely.

“Katie. You look like a drowned cat.” Nurse Garrett says cheerfully, already offering a steaming cup of coffee. 

“I feel like one too.” She replies, taking the cup gratefully and leaning on his shoulder.

“Thanks. You busy?”

“When am I not?” He ribs, and they both chuckle wearily. “I love the interns and all, but what I wouldn’t give for five minutes of peace without them bothering me.”

“Hear, hear.” She agrees. The Garrison’s newest interns; Dr Griffin, Dr Leifsdottir, Dr Kinkade and Dr Rizavi are all bright students and eager to learn - often too eager. Dr Holt loves seeing them so excited and willing to participate, but she wishes they could do it without being so... cheerful all the time.

They arrive at reception, where Coran is dutifully waiting with a bed and a flurry of doctors. Dr Holt downs her coffee and hands the empty cup to Nurse Garrett, who helpfully throws it away, along with his own.

Coral is the main receptionist at the Garrison; unorthodox in his methods but always organised and put together like no other. He clears his throat, and Nurse Garrett takes it as a hint to say goodbye and quickly exit.

“Good evening, Dr Holt.”

“Evening, Coran. Is this my patient?” She asks, although she already knows the answer. The man lying on the bed in front of them is Lieutenant Colonel Mcclain, who commanded the Altea battalion before shrapnel from a bomb lost him his leg. He is tall and wiry, with buzzed dark hair and the bluest eyes she has ever seen. She isn’t sure why, but Dr Holt finds it difficult to look away.

“Sure is.” Turning to the patient, Coran introduces Dr Holt with an exaggerated flourish. “This, young man, is Doctor Katie Holt, the Garrison’s very best in prosthetics. She’ll be looking after you for your time here - you couldn’t ask for a better doctor.”

Dr Holt rolls her eyes at the hyperbole, but offers her hand for the patient to shake.

“As Coran said, I’m Doctor Holt. Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Colonel.”

The Lieutenant grins at her with a crooked smile as he takes her hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. Normally she’d recoil and berate him, but Dr Holt is soft on her veterans, though she’d never admit it.

“So as you were probably already told; the lower body paralysis you’re experiencing seems to be a temporary effect of the surgery on your spine to remove the shrapnel.” She begins talking, making her way with quick, precise footsteps towards the Prosthetics Department. Coran follows dutifully, pushing the Lieutenant’s bed alongside her.

“I’m going to run a few tests to be sure, but I’m confident it will reside and as soon as it does, we can begin the process to get you fitted with a-“

Before Dr Holt can even get to the interesting bit, where she gets to show off her knowledge on the subject she knows best about - she did not study prothsetics, medicine and biochemical engineering all at once for nothing - the Lieutenant coughs deliberately to interrupt. She doesn’t even have time to ask him what’s wrong. He’s that quick.

“So this is great and all, and don’t get me wrong - I’m pumped for the new robot leg - but I think we’re missing something. Where’s the part where you swoon over me being a strong, handsome army man, and I say, please, call me Mcclain, Lance Mc-“

Dr Holt cuts him off with a snap of her fingers, stopping in her tracks to look sharply at him.

“Well, Mcclain,” She begins mockingly. “I am not that kind of doctor, and this is not that kind of hospital. We are in my department, so we follow my rules. Okay?”

She says sternly, gesturing to the large sign above their heads declaring the space before them as ‘Prosthetics’, with Dr Holt’s name beside it in smaller writing.

“Ten-four, Doc.” Mcclain answers, and she pretends she imagined the ‘Wow’ that follows under his breath. Most of her patients are traumatised, sullen and angry, but Mcclain is different. 

She isn’t sure how different, but Dr Holt finds she wouldn’t mind, either way.


End file.
